Four Times
by wndrw8
Summary: The three times they slept together and shouldn't have. The one time when it didn't matter anymore.
1. Chapter 1

There was a three year period after Sarah's death when the house fell quiet.

Everyone sectioned off into their own little spaces—Maggie alone, Brighton and Gracie together somewhere else, Niles, and Maxwell hidden away. CC worked 16 hour days. And the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months. One evening she came home at the crack of dawn and noticed a growing collection of whiskey bottles collecting at her front door. More than twenty.

She knew something had to give.

* * *

"CC, you take over at the conference today. You know how these things are run…"

Maxwell shifted behind his desk. His hair was combed back straight, but his blue button up shirt was wrinkled and the top button lingered open. His eyes were underscored by dark bags, and she understood. At least in the way of being tired. In the way of wanting someone so badly but not being able to have them.

It had been one year and three months since Sarah died.

CC knew because she counted the days. She counted the days for Maxwell to get better because this was her life—this company, this business—was everything to her. And she'd be damned to see it fail.

"Maxwell, get up."

Slowly his tired eyes surfaced from behind the newspaper he was reading. "Excuse me?"

"I said _get up_."

The silence in the room was palpable. Niles entered with a tray of tea and Maxwell immediately screamed at him to get out. Then he threw his paper down on the floor and stood. "You think you're giving orders now—"

"It's a partnership. Start doing your half."

"You don't know how it's been."

"Maybe I don't, but I can't run this business alone."

Maxwell's mouth spread into a thin line. He was a shell of what he used to be and it ached at her. It clung to her. They'd barely spoken more than six words to one another at a time since the funeral, and now… now it was time for him to come back.

"Get up. We're going."

The look he gave her was one so dismissive and so pinched that she could barely stand it.

* * *

He ignored her the entire car ride there and back. Indicative of the future, she thought. Maybe this was the way they were destined to be. Maybe they'd never get together, and the house would always be silent, and that would be it…

She stalked up to his room, stilettos clicking against the tiled floors, and dumped a file full of papers onto his desk. How many years had she worked for this? Sacrificed. And now Maxwell was just… gone.

The worst part of it was that she didn't have it in her to bring him back.

Slipping her coat off her shoulders, she felt his presence behind her and stiffened. "Maxwell…"

"You really have no empathy at all, do you?"

"I've given you time—"

"Not enough! It's not enough. You're…"

The sun was setting already on the horizon, petering in through frost circles on the windows. "I'm not enough to pull you out of this. I know that, Maxwell."

She regretted the words as soon as they left her lips. They were soft words, vulnerable. They sounded strange coming from her, and she wasn't sure why she'd let them surface now.

CC reached for the bottle of scotch on the table nearby and poured them both a drink. She swallowed half of hers and poured more, then turned to hand Maxwell his. The liquid wobbled in her hand as she startled to find him mere inches from her, so close she could smell his cologne. Aftershave. She caught a hint of cigar and wondered when he'd snuck one by her.

She steeled herself. Now was not the time to be weak. This man needed her to be strong right now. If not for him then at least for the company…

It sounded pathetic even to her ears.

"CC…"

His voice was husky when he said it, and it sprung goosebumps from the back of her neck. Carefully she tilted back the last of the scotch and placed the empty glass on the table. "Look, Maxwell—"

"Shut up for a moment, will you?"

His brow was furrowed and he seemed to be in pain as he tossed back the remnants of his drink and placed it on the table next to hers. Then he leaned in close.

"I do appreciate what you've done. Even if I don't say it enough."

"Oh, please. Let's not start this—"

"I'm still angry, CC. I'm still mad about what happened. I…"

He trailed off and her entire body froze. He'd never spoken to her this intimately before and it made her uncomfortable to be alone with him in this state. Not because she didn't understand loss and heartbreak. But because she didn't trust herself. Because she knew what was right in this situation, but she didn't have the will to follow it.

His shirt was _so_ wrinkled.

She allowed her palm to smooth over the creases, feeling the softness of the fabric as it brushed against her skin. His chest was warm. She could feel his heart beat.

He grabbed her hand and for a moment she though he would physically push her away, but he didn't. He just held it in his own hand and his thumb skimmed over the flesh on her wrist. Her breath caught. Not because of the intimacy of the moment, but because this was _Maxwell_. Maxwell who had driven her nearly insane this past year. Maxwell who she loved and begged approval from. Maxwell who barely even noticed her.

CC was a vain woman, but not a stupid one. She knew the difference between comfort and love.

But in this moment, she didn't care.

His lips traced a feathery line across her shoulder, then her exposed collar bone. She felt her stomach swirling, from the scotch and something else, and suppressed a moan when he reached the hollow of her neck. Then suddenly, she wasn't sure how, his hands were on her waist and curving around to her backside. He pressed himself against her.

She wondered if he was imagining her curves or his wife's beneath the fabric.

It was wrong and she knew it.

Equal parts guilt and lust. Mixed with a dash of hatred, years of pent up jealousy, and this was where they were.

Maxwell tugged at the top buttons of her shirt until they popped off, and then his lips were aiming lower, his hand working the clasp on the back of her bra and she could barely breathe. When it came lose, she pulled him against her and pressed her lips to his. Tasted scotch. Tasted the remnants of a cigar and all the nights he'd spent in a listless stupor.

It was wrong and she knew it.

With one hand smoothing over her nipple, the other went to pull up the sides of her skirt until he could slip between her legs. Then he roughly broke off the kiss and flipped her around so the length of him was rubbing against the back of her thighs. CC felt her senses slipping away. She couldn't hold back the moans. Her nerves had gotten away from her and she could feel Maxwell's breath coming unevenly against her neck.

His hand was still working at her nipple when she arched, shuddered, and he forced her down over the top of his desk. She hit hard and before she had time to catch her breath, he was entering her. He thrust roughly and the front of her thighs slammed against the heavy wood. Her skin burned. Her thighs ached as he forced them further and further apart, then lifted her by her waist and brought her crashing down around him one last time.

His semen trickled down her legs.

After a moment, Maxwell zipped up his pants. He was still breathing heavily as she forced her body to roll over and pull down her skirt so she was covered. But when she tried to stand and walk away, she collapsed and his arm went around her waist to stop her.

"CC—"

"Don't."

It was wrong and she knew it…

When her legs finally stopped trembling she removed Maxwell's hand from her waist and stumbled out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Three years of Nanny Fine had strained their partnership. Maxwell knew it. He could see it as the days passed. And now, as CC was practically throwing the high pitched brunette out the door, Maxwell knew something big had to happen. He clutched his chair and watched as she stalked over to him, the anger rising off her body in waves.

He knew she deserved an equal stake in the company, but he just couldn't.

CC licked her lips. "Without me there would be no Maxwell Sheffield Productions."

"Now look, CC, I had already produced seven plays in England before you had even become my _secretary_."

_Secretary_.

Even he regretted the way it sounded on his lips. Like she hadn't kept the production company afloat after Sarah. Like she hadn't invested, spent hours, lured in backers, written grants…

"Oh, I forgot about those seven shows. What did the critics call them? Sleepy, dopey, lousy, and closey?"

"Well, if you're unhappy here don't let me stand in your way."

"Fine. If that's the case, then I QUIT."

* * *

He pretended not to care, but he did. It bothered him that after all these years she could just walk out on him like it meant nothing at all.

* * *

He stormed off to his bedroom that evening, still upset, his body tired from the overdose of adrenaline and his mind still running a mile a minute. What was wrong with her? Screaming at him like that. She should know better. He was a respected man in the community and no one in their right mind would dare talk to him like that. At least not her.

At least not since that day so many years ago…

He poured himself a glass of whiskey and lifted it to his lips.

"I deserve half, Maxwell."

He half choked, cleared his throat, and turned around. She was leaning against the door, arms folded across a light blue blouse with black trousers that clung to her frame. His eyes followed them down her legs, watching them taper off into stiletto heels.

It was wrong and he knew it.

"CC, I've made my wishes clear."

"You're being unreasonable."

"How so? I've done everything—"

"No, _I've_ done everything. You've sat and grumbled to Niles and leered at Nanny Fine like she was—"

"I do NOT leer at Miss Fine."

CC chuckled in that low, sultry tone of hers. It was a laugh he despised and loved at the same time. It was a laugh he tried not to notice when it echoed through his office, usually aimed at his Butler, never at him. He hated that it was never aimed at him.

"I don't… I don't leer at her."

He shook his head and swallowed the last bit of the whiskey.

CC's blue eyes followed his hands as he poured another glass and he laughed. "How rude of me. Of course you want a drink."

She fake laughed back at him. "You know why I drink so much, Maxwell?"

"Because you're a miserable hag?"

Her eyes widened, then lowered. She licked her lips and in the motion he saw the years of resistance running its toll on her. Immediately Maxwell felt the weight of his words coming back to him. "Listen, CC. I'm sorry. I'm—"

"Not Niles? No. But I guess you both feel the same way." She shook her head and her blonde hair caught the light. "I must be a complete moron to still work here."

She turned and had her hand on the doorknob when he jumped up and stopped her. Held firm. Her hand went completely still under his touch. Then she chuckled again. "Since when are you in such a hurry to keep me around?"

That tore at him. It ripped at him, somewhere deep within his gut. Her hand was tightening around the doorknob again when he pulled her hand away. It wasn't the end between them, it couldn't be. At least, not until he said so. "CC, wait."

She turned and he leaned into her, smelling her perfume and her skin. He never understood why Niles cracked jokes about her gender. CC was far from manly and they all knew it… She was tall but curvy. Strong but sexy.

It was wrong and he knew it but he didn't care enough to stop himself.

Slowly he leaned in, cupping her chin in his palm as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She didn't falter. Didn't give in. Her gaze remained stony as he tangled his fingers in her hair, sliding downwards until he was cupping her neck and drawing her into him.

"Maxwell," she growled.

He undid the zipper on her pants and felt her breath hitch in a way that was almost too perfect for him to comprehend. His heart hammered in his chest, their lips crashing together, and before he knew it he was hard and throbbing against her. He felt her panting against his shoulder as her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. She was shaking. Really shaking.

He led her to the bed and pulled her pants down her legs, thinking idly about how good she looked against his comforter.

But as soon as the thought came, he pushed it away. Maxwell just couldn't afford to think of her like that.

His shirt was open and it fluttered as his hands went to pull her blouse over her head. Her breasts spilled out in front of him and this time he couldn't wait long enough to get her bra off. He straddled her, felt her legs trembling beneath him. He tugged at her panties until they were halfway down her thighs, then slid inside her.

CC hissed.

She grabbed his wrist and he tried to slow down, tried to relax, but something pushed him on. Maybe deep down he liked to see her vulnerable. He liked to see her hurt. In one fluid movement, he licked his fingers, ran them along her core, and plunged inside her again. She gritted her teeth and twisted her hips, struggling as he thrust repeatedly.

Finally her body relaxed.

He would fuck her now and everything would go back to normal in the morning. She would pretend to pine over him and he would do his best to keep cool. Because a partnership was a partnership and business was business. That was the way it was between them and that was how it would always be.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Very dark chapter. Be warned. But it will get better.**

* * *

She was furious when she found out.

They'd just returned from Paris and the claims Nanny Fine was making… CC felt sick. Not from jealousy or despair, but because of the way things were. Because she'd had to sacrifice one thing for another. Fame and money for lust. Fame and money for loneliness.

She was seething inside and knew he could see it. How long had they played this game? She acted stupid and in love on the outside when really all she wanted was something different. She wanted a change. And the façade she'd kept up for years was starting to take its toll.

Truth be told, CC was a very poor actress.

* * *

She waited for him at his desk, running her hands across the smooth leather of his chair and wondering why it wasn't hers yet. Wondering why she was still not 50/50 with him. Wondering how she was such a sucker…

Maxwell's eyes narrowed when he opened the door and saw her standing there. The bags under his eyes stood out and his hand went to his forehead. "Dear God. What now?"

Niles was behind him. "Sir, there's some dirt on your—"

"NILES, GET OUT."

His raised voice almost shook the picture frames on the wall. Niles's mouth opened and then shut again before he scurried away. CC bit back a chuckle and the corner of her mouth twisted up as Maxwell approached the desk.

They were far beyond games by now.

"So you finally fucked her?"

"Don't start with me, CC—"

"I hope it was worth it. I hope you thought of Sarah the whole time, just like when you were with me—"

Maxwell slammed his hand down against the desk. His face was red, capillaries straining in his eyes, and CC thought for a moment what a nice picture he was. How real he looked. Instead of stone faced, ignoring her, ignoring Niles's remarks, right now he looked like a man with feeling.

It was a sight she craved.

"That night was…"

She cackled. "Wrong? Oh, I know. It's always going to be wrong between us, Maxwell. You know that."

A vein in his neck throbbed as he tossed his coat on the sofa and stalked over to his desk. He threw his papers down and loosened his tie, poured himself a drink, and eyed her as he drew the curtains to the glass doors. "Move."

"Make me."

"That's my chair, CC. You could never fill it."

She fiddled with a pen and then tossed it on the desk. Stood and roughly pushed the chair back, slamming it into the wall and barely caring when it knocked a picture frame loose a foot away. It smashed on the ground and the glass shattered into narrow shards.

Maxwell ignored it and took his seat.

"Where do you want me, Maxwell? Hm? Maybe I should buy a few short skirts and sit right here at your desk."

The look on his face was two parts defeat and one part anger. He tilted back the glass and amber liquid swam around his tongue. Involuntarily, CC caught herself licking her lips. He glanced at the floor before his eyes flickered to hers. He was tired. Maybe even exhausted.

Good.

But what he did next, she could've never seen coming.

Maxwell pushed his chair all the way back against the wall. Then he grabbed her hand and pulled her wrist until she lurched forward and stumbled, landing on her knees in the space between his desk and where he sat. Her mouth dropped. He pulled her forward. "Don't tell me you've never thought about it."

There was something bad about the way he was looking at her.

A few more seconds and she knew. He really DID say the things Nanny Fine was claiming. He really did say them and he must've meant them.

She swallowed. "I've envisioned something like this. Only you were the one kneeling."

Maxwell's eyes darkened, only for a moment, then cleared. He took a sip of his drink and she could smell it on his lips. It made her sick.

CC's shoulders straightened as she glared up at him. She wanted to hurt him. Kill him, even. Could she get away with it? For a moment she pictured taking off his tie and looping it around his neck, but she probably wasn't even in the will.

Nanny Fine probably was, though.

His body shifting jolted her back to the present. CC looked up at him and saw the fatigue in his eyes. The stress, the pressure. "You're crazy if you think—"

Maxwell laughed. "You'd kill to do this for me and we both know it."

For the first time in a long time, CC felt the heat rushing to her cheeks. Because he knew she wasn't proud of this. It was wrong how they were tied together—he knew it bothered her and he was playing it out now.

His fingers found the pressure point between her neck and shoulder bone and she felt the blood rushing from her head. How could he? She hated him. Her fingers shook as a stray blonde lock fell into her face.

Her right hand made the slow descent to his zipper, tugging gently, slowly, until it was all the way down. She focused on the stitching near his crotch, the black material that curved over his length and her throat tightened. Her heart was hammering so hard she thought she might pass out, and for a moment she almost did. Her left hand fell flush against his thigh to steady herself.

She was panicking, she realized.

Why?

A second passed in silence and she closed her eyes. They were burning and she stifled a growl as Maxwell's fingers slipped through her hair, cupping the back of her neck and drawing her up until she was flush between him. Still on her knees, he tilted her chin up and kissed her, hard. There was something terribly final about the whole thing.

She broke away, gasping for breath. "Don't do this to me. Max…"

And even though he was a bastard, he didn't.

He silenced her with lips pressed against her own, his hands tearing the blouse away from her shoulders and pulling the pencil skirt up until it bunched at her thighs. She straddled him, felt him harden beneath her.

She sighed as his hand slipped between her legs. He placated her until her skin was burning and her whole body was writhing under his touch. By the time he finally slipped inside her, all she could do was just breathe and try to memorize the way his hands felt on her skin and the way he sighed against her lips as she lowered herself around him again and again.

He came hard and a moment later she felt him kissing her eyelids.

There were tears there. She was crying.

His hands smoothed out her hair, traced the curve of her spine all the way to her hips and she knew what he had to say before his mouth even opened. "CC… this has to be the last time."

The sound that came from her throat was half a sob, half a chuckle. "We'll see about that."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to everyone who gave this a read! I appreciate your reviews.**

* * *

_"My resignation will be on your desk by morning."_

Maxwell remembered those words as he sat on the porch of a motel somewhere between San Diego and Los Angeles, a glass of bourbon in his hand. The driveway in front of the motel was pure sand. It whipped up in the wind and coated the wooden planks where his shoes were.

An off white Mercedes pulled up to his suite just as the sun was going down. It was still light, but dusk settled on the corner of the horizon. It illuminated her figure as she stepped out of the car.

CC.

Three years of silence between them, all leading up to today.

He knew she would come. After all, she made the trip to California with him and stood by his side for three months after that. Twins and all. It had taken all of her strength. And then Niles's heart attack… That had simply been too much. She left for Baja with Morgan the day after the funeral and he hadn't heard from her since.

"You know," he began, and smiled. "You look amazing."

CC didn't say anything. Her mouth pinched in the corner before releasing, and he took the moment to study her. Her blonde hair had grown out long and she worse it loose, a bit below her shoulders. Instead of her traditional Dolce and Gabbana suit, she wore form fitting jeans and a white blouse that boasted her figure.

"How is she?"

At this, the blue eyes fluttered over to meet his. Still razor sharp in focus, less daunted by him in the passing of the years. "Kid looks just like me. Thank God."

That pinching in the corner of her mouth again.

She eyed him. "So you and Nanny Fine are separating, huh?"

"For a bit."

"Think you'll get back together?"

Her voice was light but there was something so raw and dark about the way she said it that he stopped cold. He took the small suitcase in her hands and set it down next to his feet. "You think I made a mistake with her?"

"We both made mistakes, Maxwell."

"But mine…" he sighed and tasted sand. Smelled her perfume, the same after all these years. "Mine were unforgivable, weren't they?"

"You couldn't do more."

"And I took this separation because I couldn't live with it."

"Live with what?"

He reached out and curled a wisp of blonde hair behind her ear. "I never made love to you."

For a moment, he thought she was going to cry. Her eyes lowered to the ground and she licked her lips like she used to so much except this time the blood red lipstick was gone and it was just her beneath it all. Then her head tilted just the slightest.

Finally a deep chuckle erupted from her throat. Her lips turned up in the corner. "For chrissakes, Maxwell. Don't tell me we never had sex."

"But we never _made love_."

"Same thing—"

"It's not and you know it." His fist clenched and slowly the smile in her eyes deflated. She touched the cufflink on his right wrist, slim fingers bending it over itself until the creases smoothed out. He watched her eyes like a handler watches his hawk, waiting for some sign that she might take flight. "Every time…" he began, "I always think of you crying in the office that day."

Her hand closed around his wrist and held tight.

* * *

They went to dinner at an outdoor barbeque down the road and he was shocked by the way she fit in with the place. The dust was hers now, and the yellows and pinks and purples from the setting sun seemed to fit her like a black Banana Republic suit used to.

They chatted little.

Maxwell felt the guilt deep down. He'd felt it from the moment CC first said she was resigning, and he'd felt it ever since then. He regretted not treating her better. He regretted not stepping in when Niles was busy squashing her self-confidence, when she was making a fool of herself at his expense, and now he just couldn't stand the thought of her and Morgan all alone out in the country together.

One of the few things that reassured him was her drinking. She went through a half a bottle of Mexican tequila like it was water and he was already feeling the effects of the whiskey when he paid the bill, ushered her into his car, and drove her back to the motel.

* * *

Inside, she took her sweater off in a way that hinted at shyness, her back bare against the breeze from the open window. Maxwell caught himself sneaking a hand over to trace the muscles there. His thumb skimmed over the outline of her shoulder bones and he felt her shiver.

"I can't believe…" her voice was throaty, "I can't believe I'm doing this again."

"CC—"

"If it had been me who called, me who set this up… do you really think you would've shown up?"

"It would've been impossible not to."

"_Liar_."

He sighed and felt the effects of the whiskey as his hand fell to her wrist. He tugged at her until she stood facing him, a strand of blonde hair curling errantly over her eye before he could push it away. "Since you left, I keep thinking how it could've been different."

"My life would've been much easier."

"Maybe we would've been together."

She shook her head and laughed deep. The curve of her breast was just visible over the top she wore and he forced himself to look in her eyes when she spoke again. "We _never_ would've been together. Even I know that."

"But we—"

"Max—"

"We could've had a—"

The look in her eye was almost feral as she placed a single finger on his lips to quiet him. The room fell silent. He could barely make out the sounds of cars driving past on the main road, the sound of her ragged breathing. "After that last time," she said, slowly. "After the last time, I got pregnant."

His jaw stiffened. He felt the blood running to his head, ears pounding.

Goddamnit, he should've known. He caught the look in her eye after the wedding but he brushed it off. Just like everything else. He was so scared of messing up that he didn't notice the most important thing…

"The abortion… that's when I lost it. That's when I went away."

"CC, if I had known I would've—"

"What? Left your peppy, size two nanny for your alcoholic business partner that gained forty pounds of baby weight and never even had a baby?"

"You always acted like you wanted me to—"

"I acted my ass off those last two years, Max, and you _know_ it."

He stopped, mouth open, and slowly shut it. CC was breathing rapidly, her chest rising and constricting in front of him with such a fury…

He clasped her hand in his own.

This time he wasn't here because he was angry, or because he was hurting, or lonely. This time he was here because he wanted her, plain and simple. He'd missed her these past few years in a way that filled his chest with a dull, hollow ache. It took her leaving for him to know.

His lips went to her cheek first, tentatively, and he placed a delicate kiss on the skin there. Unrushed. This time she deserved better and he knew it. So he kissed her cheek again, feeling her breathing quicken as he trailed down to her lips, cupping her chin in his palm. His other hand snuck around her waist and pulled her in so close to him he could feel her heart beating through her chest.

She didn't kiss him back. At least, not at first.

At first she stayed stone still, biting back what he felt was a moan, and refusing to let her hands wander like he knew she liked.

But then he slipped his knee between her legs, rubbing gently, and she lost it. It literally felt like she melted under his touch and it shocked him then how much of an effect he really had on her. How much he could still get under her skin.

Her hands bit into his shirt, just above his waist, and he could feel her nails scraping at his skin.

He left a trail of kisses along her collar bone. He was taking his time and enjoying the taste of her skin when she pulled away, shoving him back against the wall. Her eyes looked like the wall of a storm, rising and gaining in speed. Like she was battling something dark inside herself.

Then she tossed her hair casually over her shoulders and knelt on the ground in front of him. He was still so heated that he barely realized what was happening until her right hand was around him, pants at his ankles, and the slim fingers on her left were massaging the back of his left thigh.

He caught hold of her hair and yanked her back.

"CC—"

"Oh for chrissakes, Maxwell. What?"

The irritation in her tone was enough to reassure him. He leaned back against the wall and felt himself harden as her hand ran the length of him, stroking him, before taking him in her mouth.

He wasn't sure why she was doing it. The bad blood between them still festered and the more that he tried to figure it out, the less he found he could think. The warmth of her mouth and the leisurely movement of her tongue was more than he could take, but he pulled away just in time, trying to slow his breathing.

"Wait."

"What now?"

She was wiping her mouth and the look on her face brought him right back to the reason why he'd grown so attracted to her over the years—her spirit.

He was still breathing hard, still painfully erect when he asked her to undress and lie down on the bed.

Her shirt landed on the floor and her bra close by. She pulled back the covers and lay down on the simple cotton sheets, tensing as he ran his hands across the flesh on her hips, her thighs. He rubbed lazy circles around her nipples, lightly kissing the underside of her breast. She trembled slightly at first, then slowly began to heat under his touch.

By the time he slipped two fingers inside of her, she was clenching the bed sheets like she was going to strangle them. He kissed her while he worked. Slow, languid kisses. It made him feel good to see her twisting and writhing beneath him. All those years of nothing… he was glad he could make her feel something after all.

She started to beg then.

She begged to have him inside her and at first he thought about denying her, about drawing it out a little bit longer. But then he realized that tonight was not about what he wanted to prove to her, it was about what she wanted. It was about pleasing her and making her feel special. So he cupped her hip and pulled her sharply against him, feeling her tight and warm as they connected and she let out a quick, rasping moan that caused him to twitch inside her.

He came, hard, and she came not long after him.

And when she tried to slip out of the bed to get dressed, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her flush against him. He wrapped his arms around her and held tight because he knew why—he knew why she cried that day. She cried because there was nothing after. A quick fuck and run. There was nothing special, nothing permanent.

He swore he would hold her close to him and not let go this time.

It felt like their entire relationship had been wrong. But finally they were getting it right.


End file.
